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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24629086">Give Me All Your Love (And Set Me Free in the Afterglow)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveyeollie/pseuds/loveyeollie'>loveyeollie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>EXO (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Mutual Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:33:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24629086</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveyeollie/pseuds/loveyeollie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"So if you love someone, you should let them know,<br/>Oh, the light that you gave me will everglow."</p><p>They say secrets make or break a friendship. It is in trust that love begins to blossom, after all. But for Chanyeol, love was a process he could stop with his bare hands, no matter how hard he tried. There was no "abort mission", no "stop" button. It had simply happened, and he had let it. He had let the love fester until it consumed him.</p><p>What he does not know is that it had consumed her, too.</p><p>And such secrets lie within the deepest confines of their hearts until life makes a way for them.</p><p>Based on Coldplay's "Everglow".</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Original Female Character(s), Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Reader, Park Chanyeol/Original Female Character(s), Park Chanyeol/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Give Me All Your Love (And Set Me Free in the Afterglow)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, everyone! This is Zie, and this is my first work to be posted here. I was kind of hesitant to actually do this, but my friends were very supportive of what I came up with, so I hope it'll do their encouragement justice. I was also told reader-insert fics are considered the "pariah" on AO3, but I hope the readers will enjoy what I post for them. After all, we're all fans here trying to better our creative output.</p><p>Please feel free to leave comments and suggestions as to how I can improve my writing. I'm always up for constructive criticism! Anyway, on with the story! I suck at summaries, but hopefully, you get the gist. </p><p>If you guys wanna talk, I'm @L0VELOEY on Twitter. Enjoy! ♥</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every love story has to start somewhere, a chapter where infatuation blooms in spring and withers in winter, until the chill of the cold air replaces it with the warmth of love. Affection settles deep within bones, limbs entangled around one another's, and Chanyeol wonders which season had watched over them as they grew, as their love flourished. Was it spring? Did she smile down at them and cast them her warmth as they played around the embers of their love? Or was it summer? Did she shine on them light, an illumination so blinding, they fail to see what lies far ahead when courage fails to work its magic?<br/>
<br/>
He reels, taking a step back at the sudden realization. It was neither summer, nor spring.<br/>
<br/>
It was winter. He had fallen in love with her during the snowfall, after all.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>Well, they say people come</em><br/>
<em>The say people go</em><br/>
<em>This particular diamond </em><br/>
<em>was extra special</em> </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>He meets her on a snowy night in December, when the frost has just settled atop the cemented streets of Seoul. She dons a rather large jumper, too big for her slim frame, and her scarf almost covers her entire face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost, but not enough to conceal her beauty from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, he thinks she is a fleeting face. After all, Seoul was full of fleeting faces, strangers saying hello, smiles given in passing, as though they were done as an afterthought. He thinks she is merely an extra to the movie that is his life, and that her role would not last longer than this night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He meets her on a snowy night in December, when he is thirteen and she is eleven, and Park Chanyeol first finds out about love during winter, when the flakes of snow landing on the tip of her nose bring him the utmost amusement. She wrinkles her nose in distaste, attempting to dust the particles off her skin, causing a chill to run down her spine, and then -- </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, their eyes meet, and Park Chanyeol realizes she could not settle for a mere role in the film that is his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is how she becomes his muse.</span><br/>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And though you might be gone, and the world may not know</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Still I see you, celestial</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Park Chanyeol is thirteen when he meets her, and to say he is a mess is an understatement. See, Chanyeol has always been called out for his... size. Lanky limbs, long, tousled hair, pointed ears catching the attention of anyone he comes across. And, although he knew he was blessed with a face that would soon grow to be more eye-catching than it is now, he could never help the unconscious urge to cover his ears when he felt too shy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she had made him do so with just one smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With thick mittens covering his ears, he returns the smile, dimpled cheek on full display as the snow settles. His stomach is a fighting ring, raging butterflies flitting about and causing his heart to jump up to his throat. His words are caught in the space between his Adam's apple and the back of his tongue, and he feels as though he's choking when all he wants to do is say hello, my name is Chanyeol, and you have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he gawks like a child witnessing something strange, rather than a prepubescent male stuck in the grasp of awe and brief attraction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, he thinks he had fucked up. Oh, how he had fucked up so quickly and so easily. He has only met her mere minutes ago, and he has already made a fool of himself. Averting his gaze from the woman in front of him, he thinks he ought to make a run for it. That is, until a gentle grasp tugs at his wrists, effectively separating his mitten-clad palms from the tips of his reddened ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And here she stands, facing him with that smile, the smile he would grow to fall in love with without any reservations. "Are you cold?" She whispers, and her words are accentuated with the condensation that brews from her lips, and Chanyeol cannot help but stare. Perhaps this was what those goddesses in his books looked like, though the woman felt very much human. Taking his lack of response as an affirmation, she lets his wrists go and takes hold of her own scarf. Making quick work to unwrap the fabric from her neck, she stands on the tips of her toes and wraps it around Chanyeol's neck carefully. His body moves on autopilot, as though seeking her warmth as if his life depended on it. His hunched figure bows even deeper, because at the age of thirteen, Chanyeol already towers over the woman, and he knows he shouldn't find it as endearing as he does, but what can he do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the age of thirteen, Park Chanyeol has found out exactly how it feels to watch as galaxies unfurl behind irises, every constellation decorating her face in the form of freckles. She was a celestial being in a world that did not deserve her grace, and yet here he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the age of thirteen, Park Chanyeol had fallen in love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I should but I can't let you go</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But when I'm cold, I'm cold</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, when I'm cold</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cold</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He learns her name soon after, whispers it into the chilled air that surrounds them as the breeze picks up its pace. He repeats it over and over again, like a mantra made to be said only by him, the taste of every syllable on his tongue bringing him a thrill he has never experienced before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This must be what it feels to touch the sun. Bright, too bright, warmth all-consuming and awe-inspiring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, he writes a song about her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It should come as no surprise that fate would bring them back together, crossed paths already intertwining in so many points until they decide to walk together. After all, the world was never kind enough to ask when one would feel most comfortable with the loneliness solitude provided, and having a hand to hold through it all eased the pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They become friends, because he loves music. He loves the guitar and the piano, a little bit of bass and a lot of percussion. He loves the <em>do re mi</em>s of her laughter and the falsetto of her screams as he runs after her, arms outstretched in an attempt to reach. He loves the staccato of her breath as his fingers dig into her sides, pressing into the most sensitive areas in order to elicit the laugh he craves the most to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They become friends, because she loves his ears. She loves how they remind her of Yoda, and how he would pout like a petulant child whenever she would tease him about it. She loves his height, how he towers over her, and how he never seems to stop growing. Even now, after seven years of friendship, at the mere age of twenty, he stands at six feet and an inch, and he just keeps on growing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not tiny," she had muttered with a sharp glare, arms crossed over her chest as though she were protecting herself from the jabs of his words. Height has never been a subject of insecurity for her, and yet he continues on mentioning how he could rest his elbow on her head, and she would be unable to do anything about it. He was right, though she would never give him the satisfaction of knowing so. "You're just.. freakishly tall," comes her weak comeback, but it earns her a hearty laugh -- the kind that booms from his chest and dents his cheeks with the dimples she has come to adore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seven years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches him with adoration, a heart so full of love it consumes her in her loneliest nights. Park Chanyeol had come to her that one fateful night, when the earth had wept from the cold that embraced it, and he was warmth. He was fire, he was the sun, embers of love and everything pure in the world compressed into one being. He was gentle, agape personified, and he had  easily burrowed his way into her heart after that one fateful meeting. And she watches him, god, how she loves watching him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Park Chanyeol laughs with his entire body. He had always been one to commit his entire self into an action he deems necessary -- whether it be composing, or reading, or cheering her up. It has always been the same for his laughter. He doubles over, palms smacking his own thighs (or sometimes Kyungsoo, she remembers how he had glared daggers at him the first time they met, never one too keen to be touched), his eyes would screw shut, and he would laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would laugh, and the sun would shine immensely brighter, as if Apollo himself had heard the sound, curiosity piqued, he had parted the clouds to take a look for himself. He would laugh, and the ocean would waver, because he was loud. He was loud and boisterous, and yet -- yet, his purity never failed to shine through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Park Chanyeol was loud, and yet...</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, the myriad of secrets he never shared outnumbered the breaths he'd had to take in between his chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There's a light that you give me when I'm in shadow</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There's a feeling within me, an everglow</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you love me because you need me, or do you need me because you love me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol's voice causes her to blink, focus shifting from the words scrawled messily on her notepad to the man whose legs are draped over her lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the age of twenty seven, fourteen years later, she comes to realize that whatever this is with Chanyeol... this was a dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a heavy sigh, she pushes his feet off her lap and places her notepad down. On a rare day off from the hospital, finally free from the smell of disposable rubber gloves and antiseptic, she had found that the deepest wound she has yet to treat would be nothing but her own heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows he's kidding. Of course he is. He always is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One step forward, two steps back, a lock of a limb to the beat of their hearts as they play too close to the heat that threatens to overcome them. Two steps forward, a quick jump back to where they were before, where wandering hands could merely grasp on to the innocent. Lingering questions laced with the overwhelming sense of curiosity serve as their guide, and she wishes the dance would just come to a halt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Which movie did you get that from this time?" Comes her reply. Though, she avoids looking at him, she can feel his eyes on her, as if Park Chanyeol thought of her as a spectacle to keep his eyes on until the show had ended, until the curtains have closed, and all he sees is the ghost of her figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he laughs, because he always does, before listing a title she is sure she has never heard of before, and she briefly wonders just how much seriousness weighed his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like brothers in blood, or sisters who ride</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah we swore on that night we'd be friends 'til we die</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>See, the reason she had never spoken about these feelings of hers was the same reason he was lounging in her apartment today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fourteen years was a long time. In those years, she had allowed him to see the darkest parts of her. He had befriended the skeletons in her closet, had held her through every storm that passed the shitshow she called her life. In those fourteen years, he had stayed by her side when her parents had gotten divorced, and when her alcoholic father had passed. He had stayed with her as she moved to the central part of the city, where the hustle and bustle of the nightlife kept her awake, instead of the demons that threatened to pull her back under.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In those fourteen years, she had done the same for him. She had remained by his side as he had been told the news. A car crash, the force too great for any survivors. With no more parents and an older sister in a different country, they had become each other's families. She had been by his side as he welcomed Yoora back to South Korea, and even so when he had given his toast at her wedding. She was, after all, his only family left. She was there, and on a lonely night in January, only mere hours after the clock had struck twelve, and bottles of soju had been strewn around their inebriated figures, her pinky had curled around his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had watched her with the same dimpled grin he gives away ever-so-freely, and perhaps their own vows weigh heavier than the wedding band his sister carried on her ring finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But the changing of winds, and the way waters flow</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Life is short as the falling of snow</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I'm gonna miss you, I know</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Park Chanyeol remembers every intricate detail of her days, every anecdote shared after cups of coffee as their dinner brews on the kitchen stove. He was a man in love, after all, basically breathing romance as though oxygen simply did not cut it. Yet, for a man who was normally vocal about what occupies his daily life, he was awfully careful with the secrets he withheld from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It backfires, though, and he wishes he could kick himself sometimes, because he had never known how deadly the pain was when one would realize how fucking late it was to go back and take a chance on something he should have done from the get go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kyungsoo asked me out last week," she had said, nonchalant. He had looked up sharply from his guitar, striking a wrong chord by accident. The strained sound causes her to look at the man with worry, as though Chanyeol had broken his strings yet again. It was a normal occurrence, he was normally very into whatever he was playing, and she had been the one to deal with the scratches and occasional wounds on his hands. Thankfully, he only seems to be surprised by her sudden announcement, and so she settles back in her seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We went to watch a movie, and then we had dinner at that new place you said you wanted to try. Remember? The restaurant near the hospital?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he remembers. He remembers, because he was supposed to confess when he had told her about it. He remembers, because the restaurant apparently had a specialty; spicy stir-fried vegetables with bits of tofu and pork, and he remembers because he was supposed to take her there. That was, until his nerves had gotten the best of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't risk losing fourteen years for an emotion that only haunted him like an unwanted bedfellow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We should go next time, Yeol. They make this amazing stir-fry, and you know how it's always been my favorite? Well, it definitely has a special place in my heart now. I swear, you're going to love their food so much!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice continues to distract him from the white noise that is his raging conflict. His eyes remain on her as he nods, body moving as though it had a mind of its own, and yet his mind continues to scream at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyungsoo had taken her to where he was supposed to. He had asked her out. He had made the place memorable for her. It now held a special place in her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because of Kyungsoo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I know that you're with me and the way you will show</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And you're with me wherever I go</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And you give me this feeling, this everglow</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you remember when we got drunk after New Years?" Chanyeol asks her over coffee, the steam from his own cup causing his large specs to fog, and she laughs as she pulls them off his face, before grabbing a napkin nearby and cleaning the condensation off for him. He watches her, and despite his astigmatism, she remains the most vivid image his eyes have ever come across. She was a portrait burned into the skin behind his eyelids, her smile ingrained into the deepest parts of his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Half a year had passed, and the ache had never dulled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I told Kyungsoo about that, actually," she says with a soft laugh, and her smile morphs into something soft. Something endeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something that reminds him of love, and he knows. He knows, because once upon a time, she had smiled like this for him, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He says if we ever get married, he'd definitely need you to speak at our wedding. Share my secrets, little anecdotes of our drunken adventures together."</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And in that moment, she looked like the happiest woman on earth, and Chanyeol hates himself for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hates himself for being selfish, because in her moment of happiness, he wishes for nothing more to have Kyungsoo out of the picture. In that moment, he wishes to be the one holding her late at night, when the adrenaline from having to deal with one too many patients at the emergency room has worn off from her body, and his calloused fingers run through her locks as the calmness of the night settles in. He wishes to be the one who greets her good morning, with a kiss pressed to her forehead, to her cheeks, her fluttering eyelids, and finally, her lips. He wishes he could be the one to welcome her home with a home-cooked meal, and he knows they would definitely have to re-cook everything because he was hopeless with a frying pan and a spatula, but it would never matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would never matter, because it was them, and Chanyeol's heart aches at the thought of losing this future before he could even have a taste of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the possibilities of life are similar to Adam and Eve's trudge to the Tree of Knowledge. There was something forbidden about the golden apple, the prize that seemed to wag its tail right in front of his face. He knew, just as well as Adam and Eve, that this love was something he could never wrap his fingers around. He could never lay in the same bed, never kiss her the same way he does, and he could never tell her he loves her, not like Kyungsoo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And god, <strong>does it fucking hurt</strong>, because he does. He loves her, and yet she is the Garden of Eden, and he is a mere creation formed from ash, and she is everything holy, the light and salvation that met his every demise much more worth than the sweet taste of enlightenment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loves her, and he knows he will continue to love her, no matter how deep the dagger continues to drive through his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would rather love from afar than be shunned from paradise, and his paradise is her. Wherever she is, is home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What I wouldn't give for just a moment to hold</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because, I live for this feeling, this everglow</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol thinks she looks beautiful. Granted, he had always thought she was beautiful. He was as accustomed to her beauty as he was to breathing, and yet, her refinement never fails to take his breath away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But today, there is something different in the way she looks, because not only does she look beautiful, he thinks she surpasses beauty itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is ethereal in her white dress, the ball-gown design reminding him of the flowers they had once planted in the back of his newly purchased home. The color, though, is what has his attention lingering a second too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It reminds him of winter, of that one fateful night in December when the sky had wept through the coldness that embraced it, and at the age of twenty-nine, Park Chanyeol realizes just how right he was on the day he had met her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had never been <em>just another passing face.</em></span>
  <span></span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
The moment her fingertips had ghosted over the shivering skin on his neck, she had become his muse, and today, the blow hits harder than it should, because today, he knows there is no going back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd awaits right through the wooden double-doors in front of them, and Chanyeol offers his arm to her. Unlike thirteen-year-old Chanyeol, the man who takes her side speaks. He holds her close as she shifts her weight from one inclined foot to another, and he continues until her anxiety seems to evaporate, and her expression eases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't believe I'm walking you down the aisle," he chuckles to himself as he tightens his arm around her, and in a moment of boldness, he presses a kiss to her temple. "Do I take the role of your mom or your dad? I mean, I could be your brother, too, but we both know your face doesn't show the same good-looking strain as my DNA does." And his words earn him a sharp glare from the woman, but it soon disappears, until all he sees is a form of resolution.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bittersweet realization that this, their dance, had just come to an end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors open, and they walk, and normally Park Chanyeol would say something smart about how her tiny legs would need to catch up to his pace, or how they looked like brother and sister more than two best friends who have pined over the other for more than a decade, but all his words die on the tip of his tongue the moment he sees the way Kyungsoo looks at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks it's fitting how the older man's lips form a heart whenever he smiles, because Kyungsoo is everything Chanyeol is not. Kyungsoo is quiet and reserved, and he saves his smiles only for her, for the secrets they share in between hushed whispers and hidden kisses. Kyungsoo is domestic, a man who mans the kitchen and prepares meals as though they were blessed with Michelin stars, and he packs her lunches timed and sealed so that the warmth never truly leaves her food. Kyungsoo is a mystery to those who do not know him, only allowing her to unravel his soul layer by layer, and it shouldn't take a genius to see why she had fallen for him, and yet...</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, as he lets Kyungsoo take her from him, as he shakes the older man's hand (admitting defeat entirely, because what else could he do?), as he steps to the side and watches as the ceremony proceeds, Chanyeol cannot help but think that, perhaps, he was a fool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch that. He was most definitely a fool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fourteen years, and he had spent the entirety of it living in fear. Even as young as he was, he knew his life would be nothing short of a drama, and he was right. Perhaps this was how those male leads in the films she had watched and cried over felt. Chanyeol was not Kyungsoo, because Chanyeol was loud. He was boisterous, his loud laughter ringing through the halls of her childhood home, and yet, he could never voice out everything that truly mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I love you. I've loved you since the moment I met you when I was thirteen, and your face was half obscured by that scratchy scarf you were wearing, but it didn't matter because your warmth made it feel like I was in heaven. I love you, and I loved you even through the drunken nights we spent together, when you'd throw up on my shirt and cry about losing the father who promised to give you and your mother the entire world. I loved you through the sleepless nights you spent reviewing for your finals, for your licensure examinations, for your first day at the job, and I loved you through every success and every downfall.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I loved you, for fourteen years, and I will continue to love you, because I know no other way than to live this life as though I were a mere planet revolving around the sun. You are my sun, and despite how many times you call me your warmth, I will never understand just how your own senses seem to bypass the comfort that basically seeps out of your pores. You are my sun, and through every hurdle this life has prepared for me, I will continue to follow your guidance, because your smile has kept me steadfast. Loss has no place for a heart that knows nothing but love, and I love you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I will continue to love you, even when you are his.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I will continue to love you until the pain becomes a dull ache.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I will continue to love you until I cannot anymore."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes remain transfixed on her as he watches, as he claps alongside the crowd when "I do"s are shared, when rings are slid to ring fingers, and Yoora's smile flashes briefly in his mind. He thinks of how lucky she was to have her love reciprocated, but then he falters, because he's sure his love had been reciprocated, as well, once upon a time. And so, he settles for envy instead, because Yoora was not given the gift of love, but the gift of courage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had taken a chance, something he had always been too afraid to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It occupies his thoughts as the ceremony goes on, until his cue is called and he takes his spot. Under the scrutiny of hundreds of guests, friends and family watching his every move, Chanyeol wonders if they could see through his carefully structured disguise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight, he was Park Chanyeol, her best friend and family, the person whom she trusted the most. He was not </span>
  <b>
    <em>her Chanyeol</em>
  </b>
  <span>, not the love she had lost before she even had it in the first place, and with this in mind, he sings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sings, because he had made a promise to her when gin had loosened his tongue enough for him to say just about anything, and he had promised to sing his heart out on her wedding, on every birthday that passes, hell-- even on her funeral. But god, he hopes he'd never live long enough to see her body in a casket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps, this was Chanyeol's death, an end to a chapter, and so he sings his heart out. An ode to all the what ifs and what could have beens that will continue to plague his mind until he grows accustomed to the regret that holds him close through his sleepless nights. His voice is husky, a deep, reverberating sound she would always tease him for as she rested her head on his chest, ear pressed against the fabric of his shirt, and he would laugh and say the elves are working hard to dig a deeper hole through my heart, because that way my voice can go deeper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as he sings, their eyes meet for a moment, and the world seems to halt as his lips form around the syllables of every lyric he forces himself to sing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So if you love someone, you should let them </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>go</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, the light that you gave me will everglow</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees the tinge of pain that shines through her hazel irises, that one single word confirming every lingering thought she had about this -- about them. They did not end with a bang, nor with a fizzle.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>They ended with a song, the ivory keys of the piano providing the final notes of their waltz until they had both pulled away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was happy for her, and he knows she knows it, deep in her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the age of twenty-nine, Park Chanyeol had found out exactly how the earth felt like -- always moving, always revolving, caught in the pull of the sun and addicted --</span>
  <em>
    <span> no, dependent</span>
  </em>
  <span> on her warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was the earth, and she was his sun, and she will continue to be until death -- </span>
  <b>
    <em>his death</em>
  </b>
  <span> does them both part.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p>
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